Rebirth.

One of our greatest strengths lies in our ability to be vulnerable. To know amidst uncertainty that in the end, it will be okay, and that you’ll come out stronger.


I found this saved in my notes the day I was discharged from the hospital.
I haven’t spoken much publicly about when I was unwell and the months that followed my hospital stay, and to be honest, I was never sure if I would. It was a time in my life where I felt completely exposed, completely vulnerable. A time that I had to come face to face with myself, as that’s all I had. All that I had known about my life seemed to be stripped away in an instant.

Nobody likes talking about their dark days or their greatest struggles, and for the 7 months I spent in rehab, I kept up the facade that I was okay. You wouldn’t be able to tell from looking at what I chose to share with the world via social media that I was actually struggling, that I was sick and that I was healing.

I have decided it is time to share what happened, to be the authentic woman I’ve promised myself I would be. I’ve come to appreciate celebrating the good and the bad. Although bad days aren’t great, they always have a lesson. They teach you, and if you listen, they mould you into better versions of yourself. Bad days also make the good days really fucking good.

So here goes nothing…

November 2020.

I had chased a dream of working rurally in outback Australia as a midwife, and there I was living it in Broken Hill. I was enjoying the town, the people, and the work, but I was tired. After working on call in Sydney and now working 12-hour solo shifts remotely, I felt exhausted. I have always pushed myself, wanting to achieve all that I set out to, living life to the fullest, and I was guilty of stretching myself too thin, pushing the limits too often when I should have been prioritizing rest.
On the car ride home from a spontaneous trip to Adelaide to go to the shops, the beach, and enjoy a weekend in the city, I felt an overwhelming weight fall over my body—a sensation I can hardly describe. I felt heavy, like I couldn't move, as if my body had become part of the seat, sinking down into it. The left side of my face drooped, and I started laughing at myself till I cried. I asked my friend to take over driving while I tried to sleep it off, thinking I was just tired from the weeks of night shifts I had been doing.

When I woke up, my face had returned to normal. I was still tired, but I didn't think anything more of it. Until the next day at work, I kept stumbling as my left foot was completely numb. I could prod myself with a knife and feel nothing at all. That day, I tried to see a GP, but they were unavailable, so I booked an appointment for a few days later. Not that I would make that appointment.

I went to work again the following day. Nothing particularly crazy was happening on the ward, and I was doing some extra online learning to fill in time. When suddenly, the same feeling I experienced in the car happened again. The left side of my face drooped, I was dribbling, I was unable to speak, and a tremor started in my neck. No one was around, so I went to find the ward clerk from the pediatric unit. Mentally, I knew what I wanted to say to her, but I couldn't get the words out properly. I remember just thinking, “What the fuck is going on?” The ward clerk rushed me to emergency where I was triaged immediately. I began having severe tremors in my neck and face. They were painful. I can hardly remember that night. One minute I was being triaged in emergency, and the next it was 2 a.m., still having tremors in a room alone on the ward.

A week full of tests—blood tests, spinal tap, physical assessments—you name it, I had it. No answers. I couldn't chew or swallow and landed myself a nasogastric tube to feed me. The tremors were still constant, and then the seizures began. Up to 12, 3-5 minute seizures every day. Every time I would seize, it felt like my head was being squeezed in a hydraulic press, leaving me with the most severe headaches.

My parents had traveled out to be with me, and along with my friends in Broken Hill, they were all so supportive. It is a humbling experience to have your mother and your friend shower you. I struggled walking, losing my balance almost immediately, needing constant support. My independence seemed to dwindle.

I was flown to the John Hunter for further testing that Broken Hill was unable to perform as they still searched for answers. Two ambulances and two RFDS flights later, I was in Newcastle. I spent a week in the John Hunter undergoing testing until I was diagnosed with Functional Neurological Disorder—a miscommunication between my brain and body as my nervous system was misfiring due to fatigue. I was told I could make a full recovery with rehabilitation, that I was young, and that the early diagnosis was a positive in my recovery.

I was visited by so many of my beautiful friends and family during my stay at the John Hunter. Although I struggled speaking to them for longer than 10 minutes, their presence and support I can never thank them enough for. I was discharged just in time for Christmas. I was thankful to be home with my family.

The ensuing months were a strange time and quite hazy in my memory. I slept most of the day, simple things used up so much energy—walking to the lounge room was even a challenge and would usually end in a seizure. I commenced a rehabilitation program at the Rankin Park Day Centre just after Christmas. It was here I saw a physiotherapist who helped me learn to walk again, regain my balance, coordination, and strength; an occupational therapist who helped me learn to write again and regain those fine motor skills; and a speech pathologist who taught me how to speak again. It was frustrating at times relearning all of these seemingly natural and easy things. Like knowing what you want to say but can’t—it was hard. But I was determined to overcome it. I just needed to be patient with myself. I also saw a psychologist during this time, which really helped me process everything that had happened.

Gradually, I saw improvement. I went from being able to walk to the water's edge at Redhead, to walking to first creek and then to second; nowadays, I am running. I would call my friends instead of text them as I started being able to speak and articulate my words correctly. I began painting to help with my writing. I joined a local boot camp with an amazing trainer who knew when to push me and when to modify it for me. The seizures slowly became fewer and far between, with my last seizure in July 2021. I finally got my license back, which was an important milestone in regaining my independence. I returned casually to administration work in June 2021, and have recently been cleared to be a Midwife again in early 2022. I have restarted my Master of Midwifery course after putting it on hold for the year.

So, there it is. No facade of perfection, just the authentic truth. It was a shit time and I felt like shit most of the time. But I made it through what seems to be the worst of it, and yes, I did actually learn a lot from these bad days.

I learned the importance of rest. You need downtime, you need time to recover. Simple as that.

I learned that it is okay to be vulnerable. It is okay to ask for help and it is okay to accept support from others when you need it. You also don’t always have to do everything yourself. I am so thankful for all of the people in my world who helped me learn this, who were there for me—I can never thank you enough or tell you all how much I appreciate you.

I learned to love my body even more. I remember looking at my body in the hospital and thinking how I could have ever disliked the way it looked. Now, whenever I feel down about my body or I’m just not feeling myself, I make the effort to give thanks. Give thanks for strong legs that carry me around to walk and to run, a stomach that lets me sit up, arms that let me hug the ones I love, and hands that let me paint and create.

I am thankful to smile! I felt so ugly when my face drooped, when I slurred my words and dribbled everywhere. I guess part of why I never talked much about what happened was because I was embarrassed to be sick, to be in the state I was. Now every time I smile all I can think about is just how thankful I am to be able to do that again.

I learned to be patient with myself. To enjoy each and every moment. It is good to have goals and to be driven, but you need to enjoy where you are at. Enjoy every season. Stay present in the moment. Things can change so quickly.

The mind is a powerful thing. Work on yourself not only physically, but mentally and spiritually. Everything is connected. And you can do anything you put your mind to. You can overcome anything. I have learned the power of positive self-talk and affirmations. Believe in yourself, you’ll be amazed at what you can achieve.
Of course, I still have bad days. I might have some symptoms flare up and I might not feel great. But I take that as a reminder of all the things I’ve learned. A reminder to slow down and take a moment of gratitude.
Life is beautiful, enjoy it.

Brooke x